Switching sides for love
by Beccax95
Summary: Two lost souls grow closer during their sixth year at Hogwarts. Will one of them be willing to sacrifice it all for love or will they be left fighting against each other in the impending war. Only time will tell. The rating may change as the story progresses. Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling.
1. Two lost souls

_**Switching sides for love**_

Chapter 1: Two lost souls

* * *

It was the early evening, and Hermione Granger was sat on a windowsill in the library of 12 Grimmauld Place. She sat silently with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as her head rested on her knees. Sat deep in thought she looked out onto the slowly darkening grassy square that was lightened slightly by dimly lit oil street lamps surrounding its perimeter. How long she had been sat there, she did not know.

What she did know was that the Wizarding World was darkening, Lord Voldemort was back, and his followers were acting in the open ever since the battle of the Department of Mysteries eight weeks ago. Of course, she had known that Voldemort was back before then. Voldemort had used Harry's blood a year before to resurrect himself in the graveyard where his muggle father was buried. Many people had lost their lives at the hands of the deranged half-blood and his Death Eaters during the first wizarding war.

She could feel the tension mounting, the Wizarding World was on the brink of war, and it wasn't a matter of if but rather when the inevitable war would come to pass. In a way the war had already started; Cedric Diggory was dead as was Sirius Black. Members of the public both Muggle and Wizard alike had begun to disappear or die in mysterious ways. Mr Weasley had said that this was how the last war started.

She was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow like all the other good children. How was she meant to deal with school when the war was imminent? Mrs Weasley treated them like children. However, the truth is that when this war comes to pass both her, Harry and Ron will be fighting on the front line just as they had been since their first year when Quirrell had been possessed by Voldemort.

It didn't matter that they were about to start their Sixth Year of magical education. Dumbledore's Armey would fight right alongside the Order of the Phoenix and anyone else willing to fight against the darkness.

* * *

In Wiltshire another 16-year-old sat looking out at the slowly darkening skyline, tears slowly running down his face as his body shuck silently. He was unnaturally pale with hollow cheeks and dark, heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes. Draco Malfoy had not had a good summer.

At the end of the last term, his father had been arrested when he was discovered to be a Death Eater in The Department of Mysteries. His father was now locked away in Azkaban Prison. In punishment for his father's failure; Voldemort had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor and given Draco an impossible suicide mission.

Draco was to kill Professor Dumbledore, or Voldemort would kill him and his family. Draco didn't care much for his father but his mother was the only person to show him love, and he didn't want her to be killed. Draco didn't want to kill Dumbledore; the single man Voldemort had ever feared, but he would find a way to do it to save his mother.

On the off chance, he succeeded with his task; he had been branded with the mark that marred the forearm of his father and so many of Voldemort's followers. Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater; if he could, he'd take his mum and run.

He didn't believe in blood supremacy; Granger had changed his views on the topic if Purebloods were better how was it that she beat him at every test and duel? He had seen Muggles tortured by death eaters and their blood was just as red as his.

Draco would never tell anyone this, of course, he had to survive and to do this he had to keep up the pretence of been evil. The only hope he had was that the other side took care of Voldemort quickly, but until then he had no choice but to follow the snake's orders and try to stay alive.


	2. The Hogwarts Express

_**Switching sides for love**_

 _ **Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express**_

* * *

Hermione Granger was walking down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express. It had been a struggle getting to Platform 9 ¾ with the additional security in place for Harry's Safety. It was nice to have a minute to herself, Hermione liked quiet, but it was difficult to find quiet when surrounded by all of her friends and the Order Members.

She'd told her friends she was off to the toilet and she'd meet Ron in the prefect's compartment. She hadn't gone to the bathroom she had found an unused compartment and sat in it with the blind drawn down to hide her from any passing students. She hadn't wanted to have a run-in with Draco Malfoy so early into the train ride. She had sat in the compartment for a good twenty minutes watching a spider that was spinning its web.

When Hermione made it to the Prefects compartment, she sat next to Ron and listened as the Head Girl and Boy went over rules and patrol schedules for Prefect rounds. Having been a prefect last year, Hermione knew most of what they were saying, so she let her eyes wander to the other occupants of the compartment.

They all looked slightly worn; they could probably feel the impending war too. Some of them would fight alongside her, but others like Pansy Parkinson who was sat by the window would be fighting against her.

The war was going to divide the school. Would she be able to fight against people she has shared classes with for the last five years? If it came down to it would they be able to kill each other? How many of them would survive the war? How broken would those that survive be?

Susan Bones looked broken sitting quietly next to Justin Finch-Fletchley. Susan's Aunt Amelia who she had lived with since her parent's death during the first war had recently been murdered, leaving Susan as the last surviving member of the Bones family. Due to Her Aunt been a prominent Order Member, the Order had taken Susan in, and she had been living with the Abbott family for the last three weeks. Hermione felt terrible for Susan; the kind-hearted Hufflepuff didn't deserve such heartache. She would hate for something horrible to happen to her parents.

She had gotten Ron's brother Bill to add wards to their house. She knew they needed better protection because her position as both a Muggleborn and Harry Potter's best friend made her a high target for the Death Eaters. Ideally, her parents would have to be out of the country before the height of the war. Hermione was drawn out of her thoughts by the door to the compartment opening.

At the door stood Draco Malfoy but he looked scruffy compared to how he had looked in previous years. His hair which was usually gelled back was loose and unkempt, falling into his icy-silver-eyes. His shirt was untucked, and it seemed as though he had lost a lot of weight over the summer. His cheeks were hollow and if the bags under his eyes were any indication he hadn't been sleeping well recently. His eyes were devoid of emotion as he took his place opposite Pansy mumbling an apology for been late.

From where Hermione was sitting she has a clear view of the reflection of his face in the glass windowpane. He looked defeated like he had the weight of the whole the world on his shoulders. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity before he turned his head and their eyes met.

Their eyes only met for a few seconds, but Hermione suddenly understood what her grandmother had meant when he had said that the eyes were the windows to one's soul. She had seen the pain, guilt and regret in his eyes in those three seconds.

Hermione Granger knew that Draco Malfoy had human emotions and she was going to help him find the right path in this war, a path different to his fathers.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had arrived early at platform 9 3/4. He had sat on a bench in the deserted train station for two hours. He had woken up after another nightmare in which his mother had been murdered.

He had checked on his mum, given her a kiss on her sleeping forehead and then grabbed his trunk and flooed to the platform. Draco didn't mind that he was the only person there, he felt safer here than back at the manor, living under the same roof as Voldemort.

When people started entering the platform and boarding the Hogwarts Express, Draco did not move. He was happy sat on the bench, watching the people around him, his favourite to watch was the Muggleborn First years, they looked so innocent. Their eyes were full of wonderment and awe at the sight of everything around them. They did not know about the impending war, of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Part of Draco envied their innocence, and another part of him wished he could walk up to them and beg them not to get on the train, beg them to go home and hide, to be safe, to get out of the country. This war was going to take innocent children, how many of the students around him would survive? What about their families? Of those that do survive how many of the students will have become orphans?

Taking his eyes away from a small sandy-haired first year saying goodbye to his muggle parents, Draco looked to the other end of the platform. In the distance, he could see a large group.

Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio were at the centre of the group, surrounded by Weasley's family and an armed guard. He recognised some of the members of the guard; there was; his old teacher Remus Lupin, the real Moody, and his cousin Tonks.

His mother used to take him to see her and his Auntie Andy when he was younger; he remembered been fascinated with her metamorphous abilities. The last time he'd spoken to Tonks had been during his first year at Hogwarts, he'd been homesick and she'd found him in the library. She had cheered him up and written a letter to his mother explaining that he'd been crying.

His father had found the letter and subsequently given him a lesson on 'feelings been weakness and Malfoy's were not weak' over the Christmas period of the first year. Both he and his Mother had also been forbidden to associate with blood traitors and half-bloods regardless of if they were technically family.

Draco was the last to board the Hogwarts Express. He took his time slowly walking down the long train corridors, searching for a compartment of his own. He didn't want the fuss of going into the same one as his 'friends' and having to pretend he felt the same way as them.

How many of them would stand by him if he said that he didn't want to be a Death Eater, that he didn't care about blood status because they were all human?

When he eventually found an empty compartment, he set his trunk down and drew down the blind, content to sit there once more in silence. He'd been sat there for half an hour when he heard a girl's voice in the compartment next door ask where Hermione and Ron were.

Potters unmistakable voice answered the question informing the girl that they were at the prefects meeting, looking down at his watch Draco realised that he was over 10 minutes late to the same meeting.

He stood up, left the compartment and made his way as quickly as he could to the prefect's compartment at the front of the train. He entered the compartment quickly mumbling sorry to the Head Boy and Girl as he took his seat opposite Pansy.

As the Heads continued to speak, Draco zoned out looking out at the passing buildings and countryside. After a while, he felt the uncomfortable burning sensation of eyes on him.

Draco turned his head and his eyes locked with beautiful warm chocolate eyes filled with worry, compassion and pity. Draco moved his gaze swiftly away from Hermione's and back to the window.

Draco had the strangest feeling that the Gryffindor Princess had just seen straight into his soul and he didn't know whether or not he liked it.


	3. Between the Bookshelves

**Switching sides for love**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Between the Bookshelves**

The rest of the train ride for both Hermione and Draco went smoothly. Neither of them saw one another until they were both sat at their house tables in the great hall that evening. They each stole discreet glances at one another while thinking about their previous encounter on the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

 _Hermione's POV…_

Hermione could not get Draco Malfoy out of her mind. He'd looked so broken and defeated on the train, as though he had the entire world on his shoulders with no one to turn to offer him comfort and safety. If she was perfectly honest with herself, the look wasn't dissimilar from that which Harry had worn after the death of Sirius the previous year.

Harry, however, had a whole network of people that loved him, people that wouldn't let him give up life after Bellatrix Lestrange had murdered the only father figure that her best friend had known since the death of James Potter when Harry was just a baby. Hermione didn't think that Malfoy had a network in place to take care of him as Harry did.

From what little she had seen of the Malfoy parents they seemed cold and distant from their son. She imagined this distance had increased with the return of Voldemort. He had his friends if you could call them that but she imagined they were more friends of convenience as they were all children of 'Death Eaters' and part of the Pureblood Sacred 28.

Not all families of the Sacred 28 were pureblood supremacists however the majority of the families were the exceptions been; the Weasley's, Longbottom's, Abbott's, Macmillan's and Crouch's.

Not all family members adhered to the idolisms of their family name however and these members were often wiped off of the family's tree. Andromeda Tonks and Sirius Black were noticeable cases both coming from the Black family yet not believing in their family's ideologies; Andromeda has married a Muggleborn and Sirius had left home at the age of 15.

He had moved in with the Potter family. A pureblood family that wasn't part of the Sacred 28 due to their association with muggles in addition to the Potter surname been common in the muggle world.

Then there was Bartemius Crouch Junior who became a Death Eater despite his family being one of the lightest there was.

Hermione had a feeling that Draco might be one of those exceptions. Sure he had been a prat in their younger years, but in recent years she had noticed a slow change in him.

In the third year after she had punched him, he'd stopped calling her a mudblood. Then in the fourth year at the Quidditch World Cup, he had warned them subtly that they should get her out of there because the Death Eater's would harm her if they came across her. He had also informed them about his father recognising Sirius on the platform even though he had been in his animagus form.

When their eyes had met in the prefect's compartment, Hermione knew that Draco felt sorry for everything he had done in his youth. She didn't know what had changed him, but from his appearance, she could guess that he had experienced a harrowing summer. Had he met Voldemort?

Was Harry right, had Draco become a Death Eater? He had held the haunted look of a man that had seen death over and over, the look many of the Order members wore when reminiscing about the first war. What had the young man witnessed (or perhaps partook in) over the summer that had left him so broken?

Draco's skin was hollow, with dark purple bags under his haunted eyes. From where she had sat across the Great Hall she could see that his shoulders sagged as he absentmindedly pushed his food around his plate, a drop never entering his mouth.

Hermione knew that she had to help him, but he wouldn't want her to approach him she would have to keep watch and wait for the best opportunity to help him, said opportunity didn't come until the week before Halloween.

* * *

 _Draco's POV…_

Draco was sat at the back of the library, a mountain of books around him as he searched for a way to fix the vanishing cabinet that was in the Room of Requirements. He was having no luck with either of the tasks that Voldemort had set. If he didn't find a way to complete them, he and his Mother would be killed.

His Mother was currently a prisoner in her own home which was also being used as headquarters for Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

The Malfoy's held no power in Voldemort's ranks after his father's failure in the Department of Mysteries at the end of the previous school year. Draco's tasks were a punishment as was his mother's imprisonment and the snapping of his father's wand.

Draco didn't care two fucks about his father. As a child, he had idolised him, but he had grown to learn that he was a sadistic, weak-willed, selfish, pure-blooded maniac that had offered his only son and heir up to an evil psychopathic madman who was into some deep dark magical shit.

He had been offered up by his dear old dad like a lamb for slaughter and then he had been branded like cattle and given not one but two impossible missions.

He had also had to watch countless killings in his own home. Malfoy Manor which was once light and airy, holding dear memories such as the first time he rode a broom or of when he had played hide and seek, running through the hallways with a giggle as his Mother or Dobby the House Elf counted was now tarnished.

Never again could he look at the place and feel safe not when deep red blood just like his own had been spilt and darkness had seeped into the building right down to the foundations and the lands surrounding it.

Draco ran his hands through his greasy hair and grimaced as he let out an annoyed scream, furiously wiping at his tearing eyes as memories of the previous summer came to the forefront of his mind.

The first kill he had seen was a little girl of about eight or nine. They had said that she was a mudblood and violently beat her before finally granting her death. Nagini had then consumed the little girl.

No matter what Draco did, he could not erase the memories of her terrified eyes from his mind. He could remember her scream and the screams of her parents who were forced to watch before they too had been killed. Draco couldn't stop their deaths or the deaths of the countless others that had come after them.

His only relief was that he was still underage and therefore still had the trace on him; this meant he was unable to partake in the killings. He had been forced to watch though, had to pretend to enjoy it.

He had been unable to eat, unable to sleep, and found himself physically sick at the sight of the torture and murders he had witnessed.

He was now dependent on potions to keep him alive; he took a dreamless sleep each night even though his nightmares often broke through the induced rest. He relied on a sustenance potion to give him nutrients as he hadn't been able to keep a meal down in months. He was also addicted to Pepper-Up Potion which was giving him energy as well as Firewhiskey both of which had the adverse effects of making him erratic and highly emotional, not that he wasn't highly sensitive in the first place.

Draco Malfoy was sat at the back of the library sobbing into one hand, shaking, hair a greasy mess, skin so hollow it looked as though there was no layer of fat between bone and skin.

His spare hand gripped an ornate silver flask which he took swigs of every few minutes. The stench of alcohol was pungent. This was how Hermione Granger found him having heard his scream from where she had been sitting doing her charms homework.

* * *

 _Hermione's POV…_

Hermione had been sitting in the library for a while, it was late, and she had assumed that she was the only one there. She had sat doing her charms homework in silence.

The silence was shattered by a scream coming from the back of the library; she didn't think twice about drawing her wand and going to see who or what had made such a pained sound.

Hermione was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes, Draco Malfoy was more broken than she had ever seen him.

She had kept a close eye on him over the last few months watching as he tried to keep it together, as he got paler and thinner, the bags under his quicksilver eyes ever darkening. She had kept her distance not wanting him to do anything stupid; she had seen how erratic his behaviour had become. She had hoped he'd go to Dumbledore or Snape and ask for help, but he never did.

It seemed to look at him now in the library as though Draco Malfoy had finally cracked under the pressure of whatever had been weighing him down since they got back on September the 1st.

Draco Malfoy was a drunken mess, sobbing his heart out. Hermione could see the dark mark on his left forearm where his sleeve had rolled up as he took another swig of Firewhiskey.

His back was to her as she silently approached, him unaware of her presence. She could see the outline of his spine as his body hunched forward his back pressing against his white cotton shirt which was too big on his malnourished frame. His hair was knotted and greasy looking and what she could see of his skin was so pale it was almost translucent.

Not knowing what to do but knowing she had to do something she mastered all of her Gryffindor courage and wrapped her arms around his waist and fell into the chair next to him, pulling him towards her as she held his body against her chest even as he stiffened in her arms. Hermione made soothing sounds similar to those used on a fussy baby, keeping him close refusing to let go as he struggled against her.

Eventually, Draco's struggling stopped, and his sobs died down.

The two of them sat in silence for what felt like forever. After a while Draco spoke in a hoarse voice; "I don't want to hurt anyone, I didn't want to be a Death Eater"

Hermione's heart broke for the Slytherin she held so close. She believed what he said without any doubt and replied simply with two words as she stroked his back; "I Know".

Hermione would get Draco the help he needed, but for now, they were content to sit at the small wooden table between the bookshelves at the back of the library, the Slytherin Prince taking comfort from the Gryffindor Princess.


End file.
